To Fix What We've Broken
by rosekatxo
Summary: Sam and Dylan talk after their argument. Post-ep oneshot for S32 E30.


**A/N: I had a couple of ideas for post-ep oneshots after this ep but this was the first one I managed to get down! I know some people might think Sam and Dylan opening up while others are around is ooc, but in the past they've had a few little moments in front of their colleagues, so it just made sense to me. Hope you enjoy!**

"Dylan?"

Sam's head snapped to the door at Elle's raised voice, watching as her ex-husband slowly entered the staff room. Glancing around from her place on the sofa, she realised she wasn't the only one whose attention was focused solely on Dylan, the majority of the ED staff having waited for news on Robyn and Glen.

"They're trying to get him stable," he supplied dully, the question going unsaid. "Make him comfortable. Robyn wanted to take him home, but Charlie convinced her it's best this way."

His words were met by a quiet sea of nods and stoic expressions as he closed the door behind him. Feeling awkward around his colleagues (even more than usual) after the revelation of his own dark secret earlier that day, Dylan found an empty spot in the corner of the room and sank down to the floor, silently joining the vigil. Not only did he want to stay to support his friends, but the consultant also knew it wasn't a good idea for him to be alone that night. It had been an awful day from start to finish and the temptation to hit the bottle was almost overwhelming, but he couldn't do that to Glen and Robyn. Not now.

As the majority of the staff resumed their earlier conversations around her, Sam couldn't help but study Dylan closely. She was undeniably worried about him – although she'd barely had time to process their earlier confrontation with everything that had happened since, she could see that he was seriously struggling. He looked exhausted, like all the fight had drained from him. He leant heavily against the bookshelf, eyes shut and head tipped back, and the bags under his eyes made it clear that he hadn't been sleeping well. The pain was written all over his face, so much so that Sam couldn't believe it had taken her this long to notice – but then, _had she really not suspected a thing?_

Deep down, she knew she was lying to herself. She'd spent half her time since arriving back at Holby hoping to catch glimpses of her ex wherever possible, and she'd definitely noticed something was off; but she'd also known it was no longer her place to intervene, and any attempt to engage him in conversation would be in vain. So she'd ignored her instincts, pretended nothing was wrong, and hoped it would all be ok.

Now, though, she knew the truth, and things had changed. Everything she thought she knew had been turned upside down with just one word.

 _Alcoholic._

Their marriage, their separation, the life Dylan had been leading since she left - everything had suddenly been called into question. Of course, she'd always known he drank a lot. Upon returning from her first tour, it had been clear that he'd taken to drowning his sorrows in alcohol, and that only worsened as her affair came to light. But at the time she'd thought _she_ was the reason for it, that he drank merely to avoid confronting their issues and to push her further away. She hadn't realised it was an addiction.

But now the truth seemed glaringly obvious, and she wanted to scream at her own stupidity. Of _course_ he was an addict. Of _course_ he wasn't coping. And she'd done nothing about it, except to inadvertently make things even worse for him.

She wasn't going to make the same mistake again.

However desperate she was to continue their prior conversation, though, Sam knew she had to bide her time. Dylan would be preoccupied with worrying over Glen and Robyn tonight, and they'd been through enough that day without her adding to his problems yet again. No, she wouldn't push the subject just yet.

What she did know, however, was that what Dylan needed more than anything right now was support. He'd been the closest person to Glen except for Robyn, the person he'd confided in and trusted with his life – hell, he'd basically been the one to save him when things first took a turn for the worse (Sam had heard the full story from the nurse on one of her many rants). If her ex-husband was already struggling to cope, this was sure to knock him for six, and this time she refused to sit by and watch him spiral.

Slipping carefully out from underneath her blanket, Sam stretched before picking up the pizza box resting by her feet. In the corner of her eye she saw Iain watching her quizzically as she slowly made her way over to where Dylan was sat, now with his head in his hands. Luckily, the others were too distracted by their own conversations to notice. Taking a deep breath, the blonde prepared herself for the possible fight ahead – Dylan was never one to admit defeat easily, but she was determined to make peace after their argument, and she'd be damned if she couldn't get him to see that letting her in was the only way forward.

Dylan?" she spoke quietly, the words sounding almost foreign on her tongue when said in such a gentle manner. It had been years since Dylan had heard anybody address him with so much care and concern in their tone, and as he wearily raised his head to meet his ex-wife's eyes he felt a surge of something familiar that he couldn't quite place.

"We saved you some pizza. You still like Hawaiian, right?"

She remembered. That was the only thing Dylan could think in that moment – _Sam remembered._

Of course she did. They'd practically lived on takeaways and fast food from the day they met, both nothing short of atrocious when it came to cooking proper meals- Dylan may have been far too old to live like a student, but that's exactly what they'd done until Afghanistan had brought them back to harsh reality. It was such a tiny detail, but he couldn't deny the strange feeling in his chest at the knowledge that she still knew him, even in the most insignificant of ways.

"Um, I- yes. I do." Dylan was almost lost for words. He'd assumed that after their confrontation his ex-wife would either avoid him altogether or track him down for another row, but this he hadn't anticipated. He was sure that this was Sam's idea of a peace offering, and even though it wouldn't solve their problems he was surprised to realise that at the moment he didn't care about that. All he wanted was to feel less alone, and shutting Sam out was the worst thing he could do, especially when she was going out of her way to hold out an olive branch.

A soft smile appeared on the blonde's lips at his reply, the kind of smile he'd rarely seen since the early days of their marriage. Although there had been a few moments of… _something_ between them during her last tenure at Holby, Dylan had almost forgotten how it felt when Sam looked at him like that – the way it made his heart beat just a little bit faster. So many years had passed and yet she still looked exactly the same as she had the very first time they'd met, she as an eager F1 with the most daring spirit and caring soul he'd ever known and he as her older, supposedly wiser mentor (though the "wiser" part was definitely questionable). Only the faintest creases around her eyes and the dark circles under them distinguished this Sam, tangible and real, from the Sam he frequently dreamt about in his mind, the Sam he'd spent so long pining over. But as she stood in front of him, the two merged into one. Those empathetic blue eyes still betrayed her pain – both from the fight and from Robyn and Glen's ordeal, he assumed – but they gave away more than that. Concern. Empathy. Perhaps even something deeper, though Dylan wouldn't let himself dwell on that.

"Okay, good." The relief was evident as she spoke. _That's the hardest part over,_ she thought to herself. Despite answering her, though, Dylan hadn't made any attempt to take the food. Instead he still stared blankly at her, as though he wasn't really present – which, Sam supposed, he probably wasn't, in more ways than one.

"Dylan?" she tried again, crouching down to his level. "Take it. You need to eat something." Snapping back to reality, the consultant blinked to see his ex-wife's face hovering even closer to his own, before realising what she'd said and reaching out to take the box from her hands.

"Thanks," he replied gruffly.

As he began to eat, suddenly realising how starving he was, Dylan expected Sam to retreat back to her position on the sofa and act like nothing had happened – after all, that's what they'd been doing ever since she returned. Instead, however, she manoeuvred herself onto the floor until she was sat beside him, back resting against the wall and shoulder almost knocking against his own.

They sat in silence for a few moments as he ate, Sam allowing her head to fall back against the wall in tiredness. It had been a long, difficult day in several ways, and it didn't look like it'd be getting better any time soon, but she was at least grateful for the silver lining in such an awful situation – it had given her the chance to try to build bridges with her ex-husband. Although neither of them were speaking, it wasn't an awkward silence like she'd been dreading. Instead, there was something nostalgically comforting about it. After all, they'd never exactly been ones for unnecessary talking; most of their time together had been spent like this, both content to enjoy the other's presence in peace.

"I'm sorry."

Dylan's gravelly voice stood out above the quiet buzz of their colleagues' conversations, causing Sam to turn her head in his direction, frowning quizzically. Their faces were mere inches apart given their position on the floor, but rather than meeting her questioning glance his icy blue eyes were trained determinedly at a spot on the floor.

"We don't have to do this now, Dylan," she assured him gently, but he ignored her.

"I'm sorry, Sam," he continued in a low tone, his words drowned out to everybody's ears except her own. "For everything. For… for earlier, and the way I reacted. And for everything before that, too. For how I acted when we were together. For destroying what we had."

"That wasn't entirely your fault, Dylan," Sam interrupted, a guilty expression crossing her face. "I'm as much to blame for that as you are."

"That may be, but if I hadn't have pushed you away to begin with then you'd never have had to turn to somebody else, would you?" He finally looked up, locking eyes with the woman he'd loved - the woman he _still_ loved, no matter how much he tried to ignore it. "I let you take the fall because I was ashamed of how weak I am, of what I did to us. And I'm sorry about that. I really am."

Sam's eyes glistened, the ghost of a watery smile playing on her lips. "I'm sorry too," she murmured. "For making you feel like you couldn't talk to me, and for not thinking to ask why. And… for everything else I did. If I could take it all back then I would in a heartbeat. It was… it was never because I loved him. You know, that right?" Dylan broke eye contact as Sam felt a tear trickle down her cheek. "I was lonely, and stupid, and I thought it would help but it just made everything worse. I know I don't deserve forgiveness, but just know you can never hate me as much as I hate myself for what I did to us."

Dylan's head snapped back up in disbelief. "I could never hate you," he replied. "Surely you know that? I was hurt, and angry, and I hated what you did. But I never hated _you._ "

The blonde's eyes widened, more tears threatening to spill over as she turned to hide her face. She hated people seeing her vulnerable and emotional - even Dylan had only seen her like this a handful of times, when she'd been at her lowest. And that was without considering the shame she felt for allowing herself to get in a state over her own selfish issues when her friend's world was being torn apart just next door.

Dylan watched her uncertainly, wondering whether she'd allow him to comfort her; wondering whether he felt comfortable enough _to_ comfort her in a room full of people who were sure to notice the shift in the air between the two staff members. He'd always hated seeing Sam cry, though it was a rare occurrence. Something about seeing her so unguarded and fragile had always unsettled him, causing a heaviness to settle on his chest at the sight. All he'd ever wanted was to make her happy; to protect her, look after her. He hadn't exactly done a good job of it. But maybe, just _maybe,_ he could start now.

Reaching out tentatively, he placed a gentle hand on her leg. Sam stiffened under the contact but almost immediately relaxed into it, leaning subconsciously closer as she turned back towards him, tear tracks glistening on her pale face. He was gazing at her, so full of care and concern that it made her want to cry once more. It had been years since he'd looked at her like that.

"Don't cry, Sam," he pleaded softly. "I hate it when you cry."

She let out a watery chuckle. "Sorry."

"Don't be sorry," Dylan replied. "Just… don't cry."

"I'm fine now." She avoided meeting his eyeline but to her amazement, the consultant shook his head.

"No," he spoke quietly. "You're not. And neither am I."

Sam exhaled slowly. It seemed like they really were going to do this now. "I don't think either of us has been for a long time, Dylan."

He murmured in agreement. "I think you're right. If we'd only have talked about things sooner... maybe by now, we would be."

He felt Sam's dainty hand come to rest on top of his own, the contact sending a shiver down both of their spines. There had always been an electricity between them, an undeniable spark, and it appeared that that connection hadn't changed despite everything else that had.

"It's not too late," Sam almost whispered, afraid to say the words out loud in fear of how her ex might react. "To talk, I mean. It's never too late."

For a moment, the air seemed to still around them. Sam felt her chest constrict, forgetting to breathe as the unbearable silence threatened to settle upon them once more, preparing herself for the warmth of his touch to disappear, to leave her alone in the cold once more. What she wasn't prepared for were the words that followed.

"Tomorrow," Dylan began slowly, jolting her from her thoughts. "We talk. We have to be here for Robyn and Glen tonight, until the end. We owe them that. But afterwards, we talk. About everything we should have talked about all those years ago, and everything that's happened since. Everything we _both_ deserve to know. And then… we take it from there."

A surge of emotion rushed through the blonde's body as she nodded. After all this time, all those years of being stuck in limbo and having nowhere to turn, they were finally going to be honest with each other. And maybe once everything was out in the open, they'd know where they stood for the first time in almost a decade. Maybe they'd finally be able to move on, one way or the other.

Sam inched closer to Dylan, allowing her head to rest gently on his shoulder and assuming the familiar position she'd missed so much while they'd been apart. He reacted instinctively, drawing her body closer to his – closer than they'd been in longer than either of them could remember.

"Tomorrow," she replied softly. As she raised her eyeline to meet his, Sam saw a glimmer of something within their depths that she hadn't seen in what felt like an eternity.

 _Hope._


End file.
